Tuesday morning, I awoke to the flashing lights of a city plow truck outside the bedroom window. I had to be dreaming, I thought. A flashback, perhaps, to last winter, when the same lights cut through the darkness on many a snowy morning.
It wasn’t a dream. A glance from bed to a lilac bush on the south side of the house showed an inch-thick layer of snow stuck to its branches — a visual confirmation there was, indeed, enough snow on the ground to warrant plowing.
Even amid an unexpected October snow storm, somebody’s gotta do the job — and that somebody all too often goes unrecognized for the valuable service they perform.
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